


We Demented Three

by LadyHarpy



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Experimental Idea, F/M, M/M, Murder Child, Murder Husbands, Original Character(s), Rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-15 02:23:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18064751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyHarpy/pseuds/LadyHarpy
Summary: Abigail Hobbs is dead, taken but her twisted father in his last stand. Will feels guilty, both for killing her father in front of her and for failing in helping the girl. However, another child got tormented by a parent who has lost their mind, and it seems as if there is a chance for him to redeem himself...Here's to hoping things go right.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story got written on a whim, and I am not particularly sure if there will be more. I'm looking to see if I've captured the feeling for the characters correctly, and this is more so looking for constructive criticism. I've only seen seasons one and two, so the plot will more than likely revolve around that area for a good while. I also work well with people so if you are interested in sharing some ideas or feelings one on one I would appreciate it. This plot all just poured out of me, and I'm hoping that it's formed into something that will catch the interests of the readers.
> 
> Comments are appreciated!

Will absently looked around the room, his eyes landing on the two leather chairs for a moment. Sitting wasn’t an option today; it was far from a sitting kind of day for either of the men. Hannibal was wandering above, having been working on cleaning his bookshelves that evening. For a man with so much wealth and class, you'd think he'd get a maid to do such things. Then again, Will couldn’t even stand the idea of anyone touching his stuff in his house without his permission. Maybe Dr. Lecter was the same. 

“It’s like a sign from God, A spiteful and teasing sign.” Said the jittery man, a hand nervously rubbing his face before running through curly locks of dark hair while the other held tightly onto the flimsy pair of glasses. 

"Do you view it as spite because you're now facing such a strange and uncomfortable feeling compared to usual, or is it because when you think about it, it reminds you of how you failed Abigail Hobbs?” 

"Both, the second more than I'm willing to admit out loud to anyone," Will replied. 

“Anyone besides me,” Hannibal coolly added before giving a bit of a grunt while setting down a large stack of books gently onto the ground.

Will hadn’t gotten pulled into this work with Jack for very long, and he was already dealing with the fact that he killed a man. They had been too late to the Hobbs residence. After Garret Jacob Hobbs killed his wife, he had gotten to his daughter before Will was able to pull the trigger, only left with a twitching body on the floor while he shakily attempted to put pressure on a fatal wound. It took Hannibal pulling him off to make him realize that the young woman they were trying so hard to save was lying dead on the floor. 

Jack wasn't happy about the fact that he was unable to book Hobbs for the crimes he committed, nor was he thrilled to hear about Abigail's unfortunate fate. It was only Hannibal's words to Jack that seemed to enlighten the man on the fact that it was just unfortunate timing. If they had been there moments sooner, Abigail might have gotten saved, but they couldn’t control the fact that Hobbs had decided to snap just before they showed up.

The case that Will was helping with now had some very unsettling familiarity.

"Tell me about the case. Why does this one connect so deeply to the memory of Abigail?" Hannibal questioned, pausing in his work to lean over the rail. Will glanced up at the man that serious yet calm face somehow bringing down the man's elevated state for just a small moment to think about the asked question. 

“There…is another girl.” 

\----

The information in the small little room was so detailed and precise that a part of Will could understand why Jack was seemingly making connections to the Chesapeake Ripper. Of course, the lack of missing organs was a clear sign that none of the victims were his. The body count was also not of the Ripper’s traditional habits. 

"Fifteen bodies, working on getting permits to check the back yard," Brian casually said as he looked around the basement. Turning over to Jack and Will, who had both just entered the room he gave a tired sign. 

“All of them are men, between 37 and 59. Our Killer, Ms. Davis, had some plain taste. Most of them seem to take a similar appearance to her late husband. It's interesting though; she kept all her victims in sealed acrylic boxes. So we’re given a nicely preserved view of decay. I’m surprised the older ones hadn’t burst open from gas pressure build up.” 

“Well, I for one do not look forward to this autopsy. The smell alone in there must be awful.” Beverly commented as she paused in her work of collecting up another sample from what appeared to be an unfinished work in progress before the killer had gotten discovered. 

"Anything without a face won't be opened," Jack said firmly, not liking the idea of wasting time on plastically sealed organ goo.

“She didn’t leave any prints either save for the last knife she used. She must have been in a rush to beat the clock." Jimmy said, lifting prints from the mentioned weapon while other agents were slowly removing the tools and bagging up the boxes from the view of the public just outside.

“What clock was she racing?” Will carefully asked before there was an awkward silence.  
"Her daughter found her working," Jack answered; making Will shift uncomfortably as feelings from the Hobbs case fluttered in his chest. “Ms. Davis was killed in the struggle between the first responders and her daughter whom she held hostage for the duration.”

“I see…Then why am I here? You aren’t looking for a profile. Your killer is dead.” 

“There are too many bodies for her to have done it alone. Davis was not built for this kind of work on her own. There was a second pair of hands involved, and I would like to know who.”

With that said, Jack signaled for the basement to get cleared and Will was left to wallow in the dimly lit space. Now, he had seen a lot of stuff, but this was much harder to comprehend than the gently placed body he had found first on the Hobbs case. Beautifully made boxes stuffed with the rotting corpses of men, each on more melted and gooey than the last. It was easy to tell which one was the first kill, for it was mostly skeletal as the remains sloshed about its waist. A horrific snow globe, more or less. Slowly removing his glasses, he looked around the room as he tucked them into the pocket of his shirt and then closed his eyes. 

Going into the dark parts of his mind, he started to think and form that analysis that he always did. 

I have collected them all, each one closer than the last but none completely perfect to fill the spot left behind. 

Those that have failed utterly on circumstance are sedated and killed gently, kindly. Other’s are forced inside; they had a price to pay. They served a purpose, but they weren't good enough for what I wanted, what I needed. I can't bear to part with them, even though they failed me. 

This is my design.

I had the boxes built specifically for them, knowing that it would be their new home. Each one measured perfectly so the person I lay there will not move an inch, not until nature has run its course. I place them in the walls, making sure each one is snug and unable to fall from their mantle. However, something is going wrong.

She sees a change in my behavior. I’ve grown careless as I dive deeper into my desperate need to fill that one little space. I have to cover the tracks; I can’t let her see what I’ve become. 

Will inhales sharply, his body shaking a moment before he opens his eyes fully and looks back down at the boxes on the ground. He finds himself tensing a bit before slowly letting out a heavy breath. Grabbing his glasses, he pulls them back on slowly and ascends the stairs back to where the other agents are waiting. 

They all slowly head back down as Will approaches, Jack and Beverly lingering to take in his words.  
"There isn't a second killer. Ms. Davis…This was an intimate act. She's was looking for something in her victims, and when they didn't fill the need, she disposed of them. However, even though they didn't work out, they still seemed to trigger sentimental feelings. So she displayed them for her enjoyment…Like family photos." 

"That's one hell of a way to look at someone sentimentally," Beverly muttered.

“Are you sure you don’t sense anything else about that scene?” Jack inquired. 

Will looked around the home, seeing the fight that had happened around the house. Apparently, there had been a struggle between mother and daughter when first caught. “She didn’t make her boxes personally, the one thing she couldn’t do herself just based on her setup. They were specially designed but not for what she used them for. That would be the closest thing to an accomplice that I could offer, but I doubt that whoever made the boxes actually knows what they got used for. 

"If someone made the boxes, someone had to seal the boxes," Crawford added as he looked at Will. 

"Could have been her," Beverly added. "If she bought the boxes, she could have said anything, and the seller wouldn't have cared. They'd just provide enough service to teach her how to close them tight. We also have to assume, that these aren’t her only kills.” 

“Just the ones that stayed sealed.” Will finished.

The trio went silent for a moment as they thought on this, realizing that a mass murderer got away with an unknowable amount of death just because she had gone after her daughter, a girl smart enough to last until first responders arrived. Will, who had been thinking about what he felt found himself growing curious.

“Jack, where is Ms. Davis’ daughter?” Will asked.

“She was taken by EMT’s to the hospital for tests. Her mother did a number on her, but the girl got the last hit in before First responders took a shot. She’s being kept under watch until we can interview her tomorrow. After all, she was the last person to see her mother alive and the one who placed the 911 call. She’s the only lead we have on what else her mother might have been hiding.”

“We?” 

Jack looked Will in the eye for a second, and the man instantly knew what the man meant. "You think she helped."

"Potentially, but not knowingly or willingly. From reports the girl was a mess, I can imagine that it would be a sharp shock to see something like this in your own house. Thankfully, survival skills kicked in. Even if there is no killer to bring in, she might have an idea what triggered all this. Knowing that could help some of these families get closure. That, and with you there we can get a better judge of her reaction.” 

\----

“This girl survived, against all the odds, and without your help," Hannibal spoke up, bringing Will from his thoughts for a moment. The gentleman in question walked along the balcony, slowly taking with him a caddy of cleaning supplies before starting on yet another shelf section. “Unlike Abigail whom unfortunately died simply because we had arrived just a little too late.” 

"She survived, barely. Poor thing looked like she had fought off a bear, not her own mother. The bruises on her were awful, and she had taken a nasty cut from a kitchen knife right on her back according to EMTs. Her mother wasn't trying to knock her out; it was a full-blown cover-up of what had been done." Will growled, clearly irritated. "As much as I am for families, I'm quickly losing faith in parents in general. How can you trust them when so many are ready to gut their kid to keep them quiet?"

“Do you think that you are more trustworthy?” 

Willing paused is mind as he looked back up at Hannibal, taking the silence as a chance to climb up the ladder and join the man on his balcony. There wasn’t anything said as Dr. Lecter put Will to use, handing off books to the other man while he spoke.

“She’s being handed over to her aunt’s custody. I can’t imagine that she’ll be able to trust any adult ever again at this point. We weren't able to visit her the day I went to the scene, she was still in intensive care, and her aunt was with her. Jack thought it best that we did not intervene so quickly for once.” 

“Of course,” Hannibal said calmly. “Unlike adults, Children’s minds are very absorbent things. They take in everything they see and hoard the knowledge with the frightening possessiveness of a researcher. They crave information. No doubt this will leave an impression on her for the rest of her life. Having time to think about it will help Jack get a clearer answer than one flooded with emotion and stress. We can only hope that whatever happens, she doesn't take a similar path.” 

“You think she could become violent from this?” Will asked, somewhat shocked at the dark idea coming from the man in front of him.

"It's not unheard of for killers to develop their tastes from horrific personal experiences. The mind is the easiest thing to shift in the human body. We change our minds a million times each day, after all. Witnessing her mother's actions and almost becoming a victim could leave many underlying issues on the girl's mind.”

“Of course some minds are easily influenced compared to others, that’s a given.” 

“Just like your own, Will.” 

Will looked at Hannibal, the pair making eye contact for a second before he looked away. The Dr. seemed to know what buttons to push to make him remember just how messed up he was himself, his inability to understand the common man but easily comfortable with the criminally insane. He was starting to consider turning Jack down on the next case, lest his own mind also suffers such unfortunate shifts that the young girl was now at risk of. 

“Of course, it’s hard to say what mind she has. Just as there are weak adults, there are strong children. Some have come out better than they were before even with the actions of their parents hovering above them. This girl has as much potential to live a normal life as she does to live a violent one.” 

"I suppose so," Will finally answered. "We still haven't been able to see her. Her aunt's gotten a lawyer, and he's making it particularly hard to get visiting time. Jack's starting to get irritated." 

“She only is looking out for her new charge, no doubt she didn’t plan to discover her family had a serial killer in it.” 

“No one plans that, but trying to keep the FBI at bay isn’t making her family look less guilty.”  
"I suppose not. Do you even know when you might get to see the girl?" Hannibal continued on, taking the books back from Will and returning them neatly to the shelf.

“Jack mentioned that they’d get something by the end of the week, not sure when. I hope soon. We wait too long; the information could get blurred in her recovery stages." 

"If possible, I would like to come," Hannibal spoke up. 

Now usually this wasn’t something that Will had the jurisdiction to approve. Far from it, in fact. Of course, a small part of him felt that having Hannibal there could make things easier on himself. As much as Jack was irritated at the amount of time they were taking to get the rights to interview the girl, Graham felt relief. It was hard enough dealing with the fact that this case was bringing up his feelings on Abigail Hobbs and that whole mess, he doubted he was going to be the most personable being. Hannibal was much better at that. 

“You’ll have to talk to Jack.” 

“Of course, I’ll speak with him on it myself.” Dr. Lecter said as he stood there beside Will. “Now, I do have to get back to my cleaning. Is there anything else you wished to discuss?” 

“…No, not tonight. Thank you, Dr. Lecter.” Will said in firm monotone before slowly heading back down the ladder and collecting his coat. 

The meeting with Dr. Lecter left Will questioning himself more than usual. It was more common for him to end having a goal in his head than a list of questions. Of course, no case needed assistance this time around, so Graham wasn't all that surprised that he left feeling less than satisfied with the conversation. The killer was dead, and all that was left was her daughter, alone and scared. Something inside Will wanted to keep his distance, but another part of him wanted to reach out and comfort her, the thing he had been unable to give Abigail Hobbs. Was this him trying to cling to something? Was the stress making him form bonds he did not intend? If so, he needed to reconsider doing this work for much longer, even if the pay was much better than he made on his educational salary. 

As the week passed on, Will Graham was pulled from yet another lecture by Jack as they got informed that the girl privately agreed to talks, much to the disdain of her lawyer and the regret of her aunt. A part of him wasn't comfortable with the idea of meeting her. Jack insisted upon it, but Will felt that he wouldn’t be able to make a clear call. Thankfully it seemed Hannibal had gotten what he wanted, for as Will entered into the watching room with Jack, Hannibal was already standing there his coat loosely hanging off his arm while he gave that ever so slight smile. Will looked through the glass, noticing Alana was sitting there with their target.

She was so…small. Not young, but thin. From what Will had heard of the fight she was in, it sounded as if she would be bigger. She looked like she was just starting to grow into herself, yet the girl sat as if she was refined in some manner. Her shoulders rested back, her eyes straight ahead. She had dark straight hair, it hanging over her shoulders gently like fabric. A massive bow pulled back the hair on top of her head, leaving her face fully open to be read. The girl seemed to prefer to be more formal as well, which didn't fit someone as young as her. She had on a silk-like top, It being high collared and clinging to her frame. He couldn’t see much else, as she was sitting, but he had to assume that the rest of her outfit was just as professional. 

What stood out most was her eyes. They were hallow looking as if she was aging faster than everyone else around her. Will could relate to that feeling, the weight of his mind causing his shoulders to hunch more and more with each day. Of course, the girl in the interview seemed to be coping with her own weight better than he was. 

“Thank you for coming in today, Annabelle. We appreciate your cooperation on the case.” 

“It’s no trouble. I- I feel partly responsible that this case ended without proper justification.” The girl answered. Her voice was soft like a bird’s. 

“Well, all things considered, we can’t blame you for surviving such an attack.” Alana began. “Do know that you won’t be left responsible for anything related to this case after this conversation. We're only looking to understand what happened. Your Lawyer made it very clear that if anything is used to sue you, then he'll sue us." 

“Aunt May was determined to keep me safe. Said that anyone would use what I say to try and pin this on me.” Annabelle said weakly, her eyes looking down to the table for a moment before giving a large sniff of sorts. “Is- Is that a common issue for kids who are like me?” 

“It can happen, but it depends on the evidence that is found. Let’s not focus on that now.” Alana said, shifting the subject smoothly as not to put any stress on the girl. 

Alana was so good at that. She knew how to talk to people so easily without even giving off an air of invasiveness or searching. At the same time, she was compassionate to the person, and could just as quickly bring around a sense of calm, sometimes to the point of lulling those she worked with into such a sense of security that parts of them long forgotten would rise back up. 

Jack had picked Alana more for the latter reason. 

“I’m going to start with a few questions about yourself, Annabelle, just as a way to get us started and to understand your perspective. How does that sound.” 

The girl nodded, sitting back in her chair a bit as her eyes wandered beyond Alana and to the mirror they all hid behind. Will felt as if she was staring right at him, her eyes locking onto his somehow without knowing he was there. They were such a brilliant blue; it was almost hard for him to look away, like staring in one's reflection and hoping that the mirror didn't blink of its own accord.

“So, Annabelle, can you tell me how old you are?”

“I’m fourteen.”

“Are you just starting high school then?” 

“No. I- I skipped two grades in middle school. I’m a junior this year.”

“That’s quite impressive,” Alana said carefully, looking up from her notes. “Grade jumping isn’t something that’s easy to do.” 

Annabelle gave a small smile, it slipping away as fast as it arrived before she adjusted herself in her seat to be a bit closer to the table. Her arms laid on it gently as she looked at Alana entirely, seeming a bit more confident to speak about her education than her mother. 

“I always was different than other kids. I really didn't know why. I was reading chapter books while other kids still needed pictures. Math was boring not because it was hard- but because I was already done with the work in the book. It wasn't long until my parents decided to send me to a private elementary school. A place I could be challenged." 

“Did you like that school?” 

"I did. For the first time, I started to fail and…It was nice. I mean, I was too young to really understand that side of it at the time, but I knew that my first lower grade did not make me happy. According to my Aunt, I had a massive tantrum right in the school parking lot. I couldn't believe I wasn't being worshipped anymore."

“It’s hard to go from one extreme to another. You can get used to being treated differently if it happens long enough.” Alana stated. 

“Yeah, I didn’t do so well after that…At least up until dad died.” Annabelle retorted in return.

“Did your father’s death change things for you at school?” 

"It did, but differently. Mom didn't cope well with dad's death and I…I didn't know how to process it all. I was seven back then. Just because I was good at school didn't mean I knew how to process my feelings. I drowned myself in school and extra credit and workbooks because I'd have to stay late to do them and then I wouldn't have to listen to mom cry.”

"You used schooling to cope."

"I did, and after-school activities, it worked for the better compared to what other kids do." The young teen retorted as she sat there. "However, I got too smart again, and that led to the grade skips. I suppose I'm lucky to be older this time around. I can healthily process my feelings, hopefully. There's only so much school I can take before I run out of options."

"We never really stop learning, Annabelle, even after school," Bloom commented gently before giving a small smile. "Now, you mentioned that your father died when you were seven. How did he die?" 

Will found himself focusing hard on Annabelle then, if only for the fact that her shy and nervous face seemed to contort with confusion as if the question Alana had asked made no sense. "You…don't know how my dad died?" 

"No, you've only just mentioned it," Alana said, also seeming to sense the shift in the girl. "Am I suppose to?" 

“I just- I assumed that you were also having me come here because you’d have all that information from his attack. Dad was killed by the Chesapeake Ripper.”

Jack seemed to shift, his eyes widening slightly while Hannibal seemed to glance at Will, who turned to look at him as well before slowly pulling off his glasses and rubbing his face. It always came back to that case, didn’t it? Why did the Ripper have any sort of connection to such a young girl and her family? Was the Ripper the one person who had helped Ms. Davis gather up her victims and preserve them? It wouldn’t make sense; it didn’t follow the profile. The trio went back to watching the girl, now finding that maybe the case wasn’t closed yet.

“How did you know it was the Ripper? You were seven at the time of his death, right?” 

“That’s what I heard my family say after things went down. I guess they thought they were behind closed doors. Of course, I was too young to understand what it all meant, besides that dad wasn’t coming home anymore.” Annabelle responded, settling back into the chair and frowning, eyes glazing a bit as she seemed to be rustled by the thought of her father more than she was by the recent death of her mother. "After dad died, mom changed a lot. She was a nurse, so she just drowned herself in work. I spent a lot of my time at school, so for some time, we didn't see each other much…That way of living stuck around until recently. I guess mom's habits were catching up with her."

“So you lost contact with your mother long before this all happened?” Alana said her tone concerned for the girls well being. 

"No, I'd see mom in the morning, and I'd say good night at bedtime, we just didn't really hang out. Coping together just never happened for us because I was too little to understand how to cope or what that even meant for me. Mom had to do it all on her own. That’s why she took back her last name and changed mine. She said it would be a nice way to restart our lives…I think having dad’s last name just hurt her too much to keep it. It was my freshman year that my mom started acting like my mom again. She'd talk with me about school, and she started to make time for dating and stuff. I thought she was finally moving on and that we- we were going to be a family-“

Annabelle seemed shaken as she continued to talk on, her body language turning as her eyes watered. She couldn’t even finish her sentence before she gave a loud sob, a hand clasping to her mouth as she sat there crying into her hand. Hanging her head, she broke down in her lap, her reaction a sign that no one was expecting, especially Alana who jumped up to rush over to comfort the shivering child. Jack stepped back from the glass for a moment with a deep sigh before turning to Will. 

"Keep her in the building until she calms down. I want to speak to her personally. Get her comfortable.”  
Will could only give a shallow nod before Jack left the room, Hannibal walking over slowly and gently patting his shoulder. Graham wasn’t thrilled with approaching a sobbing teen; he could barely handle fully functional adults. However, he also knew that if she had a connection to the Ripper Jack was going to want to know how.

"Let's not keep them waiting," Hannibal said slowly before the two men slipped from the room. 

It took having to leave the room and grabbing a seat in a hallway for Annabelle to calm down. The girl had walked herself into an emotional wall she had not been ready for. Alana, who had kept a gentle hand on the girl's back while she caught her breath, look up at the two men when they approached with things to drink. Hannibal offered a coffee to Alana, who took it with a smile while Will gently held onto a cup of hot chocolate. He waited until Annabelle glanced up, the girl blinking at him before seeing the offer and silently accepting it.

“Thank you both.” Dr. Bloom said, smiling to the two men.

“It is no trouble at all, Dr. Bloom. We heard that there was a bit of an issue and decided it best that we bring some comforts with us." Hannibal said, Will remaining silent as he took to leaning against a nearby wall beside the bench the group was using. 

“Heard or saw?”

The adults all turned to Annabelle, the girl having focused on wiping off her face entirely, hand pushing hard on her eyes before running over her forehead. The familiarity of the action caught Will a little off guard. He knew that feeling on her face.

“I’m not dumb; I’ve seen enough cop shows to know there is always someone standing behind the mirror.” 

“Are you uncomfortable with the fact that we were there?” Hannibal retorted back, earning a bit of a glare from Alana who seemed rather unhappy with his choice of words. 

“Annabelle, you have a right to be flustered by this. However, none of what happened in that room is going to be anything you have to worry about.” The woman said, her hand rubbing the girls back again. 

“I’d feel better if my aunt and lawyer were called. If you don’t mind.” The girl retorted, looking to Alana with tired eyes. “I’m not really comfortable talking any more about this without a buffer right now.” 

Alana sighed softly before giving a small smile. Nodding her head, she stood up and straightened her skirt a moment. Just because Jack was making the girl stay didn’t mean that he could deny her access to her lawyer. The law still had to be followed, even when searching for a killer. 

"I'll join you, Alana," Hannibal said, Will had been staring off into the distance a bit and not realizing that he was being left with the girl all alone. 

As the two doctors wandered off, Will glanced down at the girl who was looking after the pair of them her eyes still hallow and tired before she closed them and sighed heavily. Her head sunk below her shoulders hands moving to hook behind her neck as she went silent. The hot chocolate sat at her side half drunk. Realizing he was now the one babysitting, he slowly moved to take a seat on the bench nearby. There was silence between the pair for a long while, mostly because Will wasn’t even sure if he should try talking to the girl. It wasn’t until the two of them both sighed at the exact same time did they even look at each other. 

There was curious confusion on Annabelle’s face as she gave a snort of sorts, making Will blink before looking away again. 

“Let me guess…Not a people person?” The girl said softly, her tone not judgmental but certainly sounding as if there was something behind it. 

“Not particularly. I’m what they call socially inept.”

"Well, I suppose it's nice to know that I have career potential with the FBI," Annabelle muttered, earning a raised eyebrow from the man before she turned a bit more to him. "I don't do people either…I can function enough to get by, but my preference would be sitting at home with one of my hobbies. To be honest, the only reason I'm doing this interview was that I was worried that if I didn't someone would think I was involved. It's bad enough everyone at school thinks I'm weird." 

"I definitely know that feeling," Will answered shortly before taking a sip of his coffee. Setting it to the side, he folded his hands together absentmindedly, that strange feeling he was worried about coming back into his mind. He wanted to offer comfort of some kind, but he wasn't sure if it would mean anything to her. 

“Of course, leave it to me to have an emotional breakdown over something I can’t even remember being a part of.” 

“Also can relate to that.” 

The monotone answer earned a small giggle this time, and Will couldn’t stop the smile forming on his lips as the two of them fully made eye contact. 

“Um…You’re not an agent.” Annabelle pointed out, motioning to the temp nametag on his jacket.

“Uh, no…I’m not. I’m a consultant for the FBI. I go to crime scenes and get a…feel for what the criminal might be like.” Will explained, his hands fidgeting together slowly. 

“I didn’t know that people like that existed.”

“They don’t…usually. It’s more common to get a psychiatrist to make a psychological profile. I just happen to be…really good.” 

Will didn't like the idea of admitting to a teenager that he could empathize with people that committed murders, especially when that same child also didn't know that he had been at the scene of her mother's crimes. He was having a hard enough time trying to keep other feelings in check; he wasn't about to throw the girl for another loop. The less she knew, the better.

Annabelle leaned back, closing her eyes as she took in a deep breath of sorts before rubbing her forehead. The crying had taken a real total on her, and Will knew that she was going to have to keep talking for quite a while if Jack had anything to say about it. There was silence again between them, the teen slowly drinking the rest of her hot chocolate before she set the cup back down. 

“Thanks for talking…Even if it was forced conversation." The girl said slowly she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

“Well, even the socially inept need someone to talk to occasionally.”

There was a hollow laugh, and Will found himself giving another smile. That was two in one day, no doubt a rarity in his life, especially when they were honest smiles. He noticed that she moved to stand up and he did the same. Even if they had started to chat, he was still more or less keeping an eye on her. This was a Federal building, even if just a teen she couldn’t just go wandering off anywhere.

“Is there…like, a bathroom around here? I’d rather not be seen by my aunt looking like I blew up. It’s bad enough I’ll hear her saying she told me so over and over again on the ride home.”

“You recover pretty well for someone who cried that much.” Will pointed out as he motioned in the direction that they would walk for her request. 

“I can’t help it…After what happened with my dad and all the therapy they put me through it’s just easier to have one burst of emotion than to hover on those feelings for years. At least they leave me alone when they think I’m ok.” 

“Are you okay?” Will asked, stopping as he looked at Annabelle. 

The girl paused, turned back to him as she stood there, hair hanging in her face a moment as blue eyes dug holes into him.

“I…don’t know anymore.”

Will hated how much he related to her plight, to those confusing and jumbled feelings that seemed to be shooting around her head like a bouncy ball from a cheap arcade — not understanding what was going on in your own head, having questions about your emotions and not knowing how to process it all so that it would leave you alone. Such a mind space was a dangerous one, he had it for decades, and it still was constantly throwing him for loops…She'd only had it for a week or so.

“Come on, let’s get you to a bathroom before they come back to pull you into another office. Maybe get something besides sugar in your system as well.” Will flatly added, motioning once again for Annabelle to start walking as the pair headed down the hall. 

\----  
"Jack's out of line," Alana muttered as she watched the girl leave with her aunt and a very nicely dressed lawyer. "He kept her for another two hours after that, prodded her like some kind of criminal. She was only kept safe thanks to that lawyer, as much as he also irritates me.” 

"You have a past with the guy?" Will asked, also standing near Dr. Bloom as they looked out the window together to a view of the main entrance. The lawyer left Annabelle standing with her aunt on the curb; the woman seems to be talking at her while the girl stood silently in place. She had been right when she told Will the woman wouldn't let her hear the end of it. The whole building had listened to the woman ripping into Annabelle for making such a move.

“He hovers around cases that involve children, feeding on the panic of the new guardians and their concern for the child not getting emotional trauma. What they don’t realize is that trauma is already there; the child just doesn’t know how to express it yet. Only had to deal with him a few times, but enough to know that he’s not there to help.”

“A pity," Hannibal said pulling the other two's attention away from the windows. "She's brilliant in some manner. After all, any other child her age would have broken down into a mess. Annabelle, on the other hand, seems to be holding herself together. Her mind is far older than her body lets on."

"You are right about that. Annabelle is by far one of the most well-placed people I've ever had to interview after something like this. It's almost as if she had no emotional attachment at all." 

"She might not," Will muttered, turning fully to Hannibal. "We talked a bit when you both went to go fill out her request. It felt like I was…talking to myself." 

"Like she had your personality?" Alana prodded for an explanation.

“No…Like she had my problem.” 

Rubbing his face nervously, Will started to pace the little office the group had taken to discuss what had been going on. Jack was planning on keeping them there until they could really have a chat over what just occurred. Hannibal and Will had been unable to be witness to the onslaught that had happened in Jack's office. Thankfully, Alana got to enlighten them both to the mess that occurred once it was all said and done. 

“She could be without a diagnosis. You said so yourself that her aunt confirmed the claim Annabelle made in the interview.” Hannibal began, “Her father was killed like the Chesapeake Ripper's style, but since he was a single kill his case wasn't examined as anything more than murder and a culprit was never found. She claims only to remember going down the stairs when she heard noises, and then just waking up in her bed to her mother’s discovery of the body. The trauma from that on such a young mind can get buried deep with each memory that slips away in time, especially when that same mind excels to the point of advancing grade levels.” 

"So Her father's death affected her brain development, and she buried her memories in education to cope with the loss?" Alana summarized.

"Specifically, her emotional development, Annabelle said herself that she and her mother didn’t even start having a family relationship again until she was 12. Her mother’s ability to cope should be noted. It could simply be genetic.” 

“Annabelle didn’t fall in the volatile direction; her mind swayed a different way. Instead, opting to close her mind to people least she has to feel the loss. Nothing to miss if you never had it.” Graham said as he pulled off his glasses and cleaned them. "She talked about the kids like they were already planning on attacking her about this, watching the news reports on her mother's killings to beat them to the punch." 

"Self-destructive behavior is just as common in these situations as outward violent behavior. Annabelle could be cutting off the baggage this new death brings before it's even packed, and it's causing a lot of mixed signals in her mind. Potentially awakening emotions not present since her father." Alana said as she crossed her arms over her chest. "The only issue now is finding her a good psychiatrist. Easier said than done; she's clearly more mature than the average fourteen-year-old. Having someone treating her like a child isn't going to help her open up about all that's happened. Might just have her shutting even tighter.” 

Will sighed a bit leaning back against a desk and closing his eyes. He wanted to help her; he wanted to reach out and be more than just another guy who saw her sobbing. Annabelle was so similar that it was haunting. Those feelings of family bubbled in his chest again, that sense that he could have done better, that he could have done justice in Annabelle’s time of need. Will pushed them down, knowing it was unhealthy to think that way. All the same, he'd at least try and give her an outlet, a kind ear to just listen.

“I could take her on as a patient.” Hannibal offered, shifting his coat from one arm to another while both Graham and Bloom looked at him like he was insane.

“You might be a bit…Much for Annabelle, Dr. Lecture,” Alana offered. 

"I second that," Will said, raising one of his hands as if to confirm that Hannibal's methods tended to be more brute force than just leading.

“Annabelle clearly doesn’t want to be coddled. She wants someone who’s going to tell her what she needs to hear. She might not be saying it, but it’s her body language that speaks that way. A child of her mind doesn’t think like a child. As far as she’s concerned, she’s an adult. Of course, this is just a thought. It will be up to her if she even pursues any treatment.” 

Hannibal made a point. Just because this happened to her didn't mean that anything could get pushed on her. She did therapy in the past, and her aunt would have to decide if it was a good idea to even pursue another session for the girl. Will still didn't think Dr. Lecture would be a good fit. Then again, he kept going back to the man for conversations. Maybe it wouldn't be out of the question to be considered a potential option. Alana seemed more on the fence about it, but she did know the man far longer than Will. 

“Either way, it’s out of our hands for now. Jack seemed rather invested in the conversation. If the two of you are smart, you’ll go home before he actually gets you to stay here any longer.” Alana added as she started to head towards the office door. “I’ve got to make my report of the interview to him in person, especially with the outcome we’ve all seen. I can suffer that without you both.” 

"Of course, it would be for the best if I didn't overstay my welcome. I must return to my office and deal with my afternoon appointments. Have a good day, you two.” 

Will only gave a wave as Dr. Lecture left, Alana hovering in the door for a moment and providing a soft smile. "You're better off going too, Will. Before Jack pulls you into something else." 

“Yeah, I know…Alana, can I ask you something?” 

“Of course, Will.”

“Is it…out of the question to offer up myself as someone for her to talk to?” 

Alana seemed a little shocked at Will's offer but shook her head. "I don't think so. If you both seemed to speak easily, it might not be bad for her to have someone who isn't obligated to look out for her health to talk to. Just be careful; it might not look appropriate if you socialize too frequently." 

"Well aware of that," Graham answered as he moved to leave the room as well. "I just…It was like looking in a mirror. I felt like I was experiencing my childhood all over again. Maybe giving her the person I never had could make things a little better in the long run."

“Well, that’s rather thoughtful of you, Will.” 

“I know, it’s completely out of character.” 

Alana just gave a small chuckle before letting Will step out of the room before her. “Kids do that to us sometimes.”


	2. Chapter 2

Will was having second thoughts as the car drove along, his mind jumping around in his head as trees rushed past the window in blurs. He had been on a high socially after speaking to the young girl, and of course, it had followed with that damned feeling that still lingered from the guilt he had for Abigail. If he had just kept his mount shut if he had just taken the time to really think this over before it had gotten out of hand…

Maybe things would have stayed in his comfort zone. 

“You’ve been quite the whole drive Will, having second thoughts about this meeting?” Alana offered gently, the man shifting in his seat as he was yanked from the broad confines of his mind.

"A little…It's not exactly normal for a grown man to reach out to an underaged girl unless there is some intent. I can only imagine what Jack thought of this." 

“Jack doesn’t know.” 

Looking at her, his lips forming a strangely pressed frown of sorts as Alana glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Her smile was soft, kind and gentle. It seemed that even Dr. Bloom wasn't as to the book as he initially believed. She scoffed at his expression before making a particular turn on the road, having slowed as they left the main drag and entered a very simple neighborhood.

“Will, I think that giving that girl a non-scheduled person to communicate with isn’t a bad idea. Especially since from what I learned on the phone, Annabelle seems just as curious about you.”

“She was?” His tone shifted to hopeful, making an awkward pink show on his face before a hand moved up to rub it away.

“According to her aunt, Annabelle said that the only person that made her feel comfortable while she was there was the curly haired fellow who couldn’t look her in the eyes but still tried. “

“Well, glad I made an impression.” He huffed a bit, closing his eyes and letting his head lull back.

“Also, I know how things have been since what happened on your first case. Maybe working on helping out Annabelle might also help you deal with your feelings.” 

“Please don’t tell me you’re thinking of becoming my psychologist, Dr. Bloom.”

Alana just rolled her eyes a little before they pulled up to a lovely house. It was old, clearly having been built a long time ago. It reminded Will of his own home though certainly on a much larger scale. It seemed Annabelle's well dressed state and formal appearance had an explanation finally. It ran in the family. His mind wandered back to the crime scene, thinking about how nice that house had looked as well. How did a single mother who was a nurse afford such things? How could she even afford to murder on that money alone while still raising a child? Shaking the thoughts from his mind, he stepped out of the car with Alana following not too far behind.

Before they could even ring the doorbell, the front door got opened by an older looking woman. She had silver hair that curled in waves around her face, bright blue eyes and high cheekbones that could cut glass. Her smile was thin and tight, but the air about her was elegant and sophisticated. Even her clothing screamed about having some old wealth that not even she would be able to spend in her lifetime. People like this made Will horribly uncomfortable. 

“Dr. Bloom, It’s wonderful to see you again. Thank you for helping my grandniece back there at the Federal building.” The woman cooed her voice high and honeyed while offering a hand. 

Alana took it, shaking it firmly before she stepped back and motioned to Will. “This is Will Graham. He’s the man that we discussed.” 

“Hello, Mrs.-“ 

“Beatrice Miller.” She answered, shaking Will’s hand as well before stepping back and letting the pair step into the house. “I’m grateful that you’ve reached out to us, Mr. Graham and Dr. Bloom. I had to admit that the circumstances have put me in a position I am not prepared for. That’s why when Annabelle mentioned you with such positive flare I knew that turning down a meeting would be foolish. More than ever she needs a support system.”

"Of course, we only want what's best for Annabelle," Alana kindly said as they wandered into the elegant entrance hall. It wasn't a mansion by any standard, but the feel of the place reminded Will of the kind of elegance Dr. Lecter’s office maintained. It was clean, crisp and decorated with pieces of art he couldn’t begin to understand.

“If you don’t mind me saying, you have a charming home, Mrs. Miller. Does wealth run in your family?” Will asked, his eyes pausing on a brass carved fish, it looks as if it was being caught as he noticed a very lovely fishing lure handing from the sculpted lips. 

Alana found herself giving a look at the out-of-place male, clearly having not realized that Will might not exactly know how to speak around someone like this woman. Her lips formed a tight smile as she looked back at Mrs. Miller, the older woman having turned curious eyes on to her before speaking carefully. “It does. Of course, we spent most of it on our niece and her daughter, God, rest her soul.” 

“So you aren’t Annabelle’s direct aunt?” 

“Oh no, Annabelle just uses the term out of comfort. Over complicating our relationship seemed so unnecessary when she was a child, it was just easier to have her call me Auntie Bee. It was Annabelle's mother who was my niece; her mother was my sister. Death, unfortunately, seemed to follow that branch of the family religiously." 

“I see…So has Annabelle lost a lot of people in her life?” Will asked, turning to look back to the two women. 

"She has, unfortunately." Mrs. Miller answered as she stepped into a formal living room and motioned for the two to take a seat. "Annabelle's Grandmother and Grandfather died when she was three. One passed on from illness and the other from a broken heart. She was too young to remember such an event, but she was there for it. Next was her father, the poor man. Of course, I am sure you're all very familiar with the most recent loss on that part of our family tree."

“You seem very calm about losing so much family, Mrs. Miller.” Alana brought up, the older women only giving a smile before she motioned to the two of them. 

“When you get to be my age, the people that you love start dropping like flies. The only time you really feel it is when it’s those that are younger than you. Katie, Ms. Davis as you know her, was a horrible and unfortunate loss. I always thought it was odd; she moved so far. However, I was just her aunt, and I couldn't rightly tell her what to do for her family. If only I reached out more, but hindsight is 20/20."

"How's Annabelle been with everything?" Will said, deciding that prodding any more into Annabelle difficult family life might make it harder to keep him from wanting to form familial bonds. He could help, but getting attached could make things very difficult down the road for them both.

“She had her breakdown, as you both know, but since that she’s been doing well. I suppose that living under a woman with such instability certain social cues weren’t taught. I should be glad that her schooling was of a higher level and helped balance the lack of social interaction she must have had at home.” Beatrice commented, her tone going airy as she looked off to the side.

“Has Annabelle changed schools?” Alana brought up, no doubt worried about too many changes happening to the girl in such a fragile state. 

"Oh no, I would never do that. The school Annabelle attends is a highly rated private school. Compared to how far she was from it before, it's only a short walk now. On days that she had after school activates she'd spend the evening with me. I saw Annabelle more often than her own mother. It was only Annabelle’s first year that Katie pulled back from work and started focusing on her child again; I thought things were going to get better…”

“Once again, we are so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Miller.” 

“Thank you. Even if with such awful circumstances bringing the girl into my home, I'm thrilled to have her around fully. It puts my old heart at ease. Now she can focus on her talents, and she doesn't have to spend most of her day on a bus or in transit to school. Speaking of, I should go get her from the practice room before she drowns herself in recital pieces again. The girl is obsessed with perfection."

“Recital?” Will perked, his brows furrowing for a moment while the old women grinned more and stood.

"Come, I'll show you. Annabelle's practicing in the back room now. I had it built have when she first started, but she never came around often enough to use it. Now, it's getting the full use it deserved." 

Mrs. Miller guided the pair further into the house. The old walls were covered in paintings that Will knew could value more than his home. As they wandered deeper, the muffled sound of music started to fill the hall. It wasn't until they approached a heavy door did Mrs. Miller turn and motion for them not to make a sound. Slowly, she turned the knob, the sound bursting forth as Tchaikovsky's Waltz of the Flowers poured out around them. Will felt his breath stopping as both Alana and himself were enthralled. 

He finally saw what Dr. Lecter meant by Annabelle being brilliant. 

She sat there at a grand piano, the instrument shimmering black and engraved with gold detailing. The sound was clear and clean-cut, precise in every way. At least, that was how it sounded to Will. Music was never much his area of expertise; he enjoyed it while driving around or occasionally while out fishing. Here, in this room, the music was captivating. It filled his chest and rang in his ears. For the first time in his life, his imagination soared into pure and deep colors. Imagines of roses and daisies, bright white silk and satin and even a fairy-like forest all swirled about in his head all the while Annabelle's deft fingers danced on ivory keys.

The imagines in his mind evaporated, however, as the song suddenly cut off, Annabelle seemingly stiffening up before hallow eyes turned on the door with a dark glare. “Auntie I’ve told you not to interrupt-“

Will locked eyes with the young girl, and harsh rage subsided in her eyes to calm and peace. Shoulders relaxed, and body language softened back once more into such a tiny little girl. For a split second, he could have sworn that there had been something so much darker there, but it was gone before he could pinpoint it. 

“I am sorry, dear. I know you hate me interrupting your practice hours. However, Mr. Graham and Dr. Bloom have arrived.” The old women cooed, her tone overly sweet to the teenager compared to how lax and droning she had been with the adults. 

Clearing her throat, Annabelle stood up from the piano and gently moved to tuck the bench under before adjusting the heavy wool sweater she was wearing. It consumed her, so big that it went to her knees. Shuffling over to the adults, the teen folded her hands behind her back before looking up at Alana and Will with a far more pleasant expression than she had the first time they met. “It’s good to see you again, especially under better circumstance.” 

"It's nice to see you as well, Annabelle. Mr. Graham and I were both concerned for you after everything that happened. We just wanted to check in." Alana said, Will only giving a tight-lipped smile which Annabelle returned with one of her own. 

“Well, thank you. I was glad to hear you both were coming. I liked you two the most out of everyone there.” 

“I suppose that says something about the FBI, doesn’t it?” Will commented, unable to stop himself before the words left him. 

“It does, but that’s their problem, not mine.” Annabelle sarcastically commented without hesitation.

Mrs. Miller chuckled sweetly before gently grabbing Annabelle' shoulders and giving her a side hug. The gesture wasn't shared, but the girl didn't shrug it off either, only looking at the two adults with the sort of expression the common teen would have getting dotted on in front of other people. "Why don't we go out into the sunroom? I'll make us some coffee and pull out the cookies Annabelle baked for you both." 

“Auntie.” A growl of embarrassment sounded as the tiny girl flushed pink.

The old woman just chuckled some more before she guided Annabelle out of the practice room, Alana and Will only expected to follow her at this point as they continued on their adventures through the home. Stepping into the sunroom, Will had to take note of the massive backyard that the house had. Before he could even think to sit, the sound of a low bark caught his attention, a pair of lovely dogs perched on a rather large floor bed for pets. While Alana had slipped past to take a seat on a small sofa, Will knelt gently, one of the pups only sniffing in his direction but staying firmly in place as he tried to offer up his hand. 

"Do you like dogs, Mr. Graham?" Came the soft voice of Annabelle, the girl had appeared right behind him without so much as a sound, carrying a tray with a pot of coffee and a collection of cups. Mrs. Miller slipped past her with a large plate of cookies, setting them on the coffee table in the room before relaxing herself. 

“I do; I have several at home.” He said. 

"That's quite literal as well. It's up to six now." Alana chirped, a small blush coating Will’s cheeks. 

Annabelle smiled softly, giggling a little before she looked at the dogs and gave a firm whistle. Instantly the dogs stood up, wandering over to Will with eager and wagging tails to examine his hand. The man couldn’t stop himself from chuckling as they instantly began to attack him with eager licks and head butts. 

“Oh Annabelle, don’t let them assault the poor man.” Mrs. Miller said with disapproval as she sat down. 

"It's quite alright, Will love's animals," Alana said, catching the older woman's attention. 

Annabelle set the tray down and poured out the coffee, offering a cup both to her aunt and Dr. Bloom before pouring another and taking it over to Will. She snapped her fingers, and the dogs sat back, perched nicely and stilled as she offered the cup to him. Taking it, Will smiled a little before taking a drink. Annabelle whistled again, and the dogs hovered over to her eagerly this time, head butting her until she knelt and allowed them to crawl all over her lap. She took the time to scratch behind their ears and pet them, Will joining up again after shifting to reach the coffee table and set aside his drink.

“What breed are they?” He asked, his tone relaxed and calm compared to usual. It was clear that he found more comfort with animals than people. 

“They are both Belgian Malinois, a breed of guard dogs. Aunt Beatrice bought them for my tenth birthday. I saw them on a show on animal planet, and I fell in love. I had to have one at least." 

“I couldn’t refuse.” Mr. Miller spoke up. “She was enthralled, had her whole room covered in pictures she collected from books or magazines. They’re not a common breed in the area, and I had to make several calls, but it was worth it in the end. Found two newborns that were tight at the hip and couldn't be parted. So I got them both and had them trained fully before giving them to her." 

“As guard dogs?” Alana asked, her tone a little shocked at the idea of giving a kid an animal that could kill on command. 

"Yes…It was the only way Katie would agree to have them at the house. Annabelle, why don't you and Mr. Graham go have some fun with the dogs in the back yard? After all, they've been waiting for you all day. They need to burn some energy."

Annabelle looked up at her aunt before she glanced at Will. There seemed a moment of hesitation on her face before she looked down at the dogs and scratched their heads once more. “Would you like to, Mr. Graham?” 

"Sure," Will answered, moving to stand up. 

Annabelle smiled again, standing up and once more adjusting the sweater before she hurried back out of the sunroom. The dogs followed her only as far as the door, hovering there as if some invisible barrier was keeping them from going further. It wasn’t long before she came back, a pair of heeled boots on her feet now as she hurried to the back door. Will glanced at Alana, who waved him off, before following Annabelle and the dogs outside. The pups instantly ran off scurrying around and sniffing about while the teen wandered off to a small basket that was filled to the brim with dog toys.

“Their names are Milo and Bruce.” 

“Good names for a dog like that,” Will replied, wandering slowly beyond the patio as he crossed his arms. 

It was a habit that he scanned the yard, keeping an eye on the dogs as they went about their business. Of course, unlike his own dogs, he doubted these two would ever get caught off guard. Fully trained guard dogs never really turned off; they just knew that their masters weren't the people they should bite. No doubt they were prepared to respond to sure signs, such as screaming. Even then, they were so tightly set up that they didn't even cave when a new person came up, well aware of who was and was not a potential threat. 

"Thanks for coming, again," Annabelle said suddenly, standing there as she held tightly onto a tennis ball. The dogs instantly perked as they noticed her holding it, rushing over and skittering about eagerly while waiting for her to throw it. 

“It’s no trouble…I heard that I wasn’t the only looking forward to talking.” 

“You weren’t.” 

The silence fell then, Annabelle lobbing her arm back and casting the tennis ball into trees that lined the end of the back yard. As the pups rushed off with barks and pants, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

“I must admit, for someone that has seen what my mom did you've been very nice to me.” 

The words hit Will hard, if only for the fact that it was not what he had expected to hear come out of her mouth. Even worse she said it so calmly, not a hint of anger or judgment in her tone. Most who found out about his work began to mistrust him heavily.

“Mind me asking how you know that?” He prodded his tone shaking as he tried to think of who he was going to have to yell at for exposing him to her. This was supposed to have stayed off the table.

"I made an educated guess; you just confirmed it."

"So you made a statement that you weren't even sure was true just to see if I'd react?"

"Can you blame me for not fully trusting adults for what first comes out of their mouths? After all, shocking statements usually get the most honest response."

Will was a little unsettled by the fact that this teen had caught him off guard for the single purpose of finding out if he was on her mother's case. Then again, no doubt she had made some sort of connection on her own since it had been himself that arrived with hot chocolate when she broke down. The sound of her clearing her throat got his attention, making him turn to see her smiling, giggling a little before she tilted her head to the side.

"Just because you were working my mom's case doesn't me I dislike you, Mr. Graham." Annabelle perked, the dogs had returned with the ball only for the girl to take it and then offer it to Will. "I just never thought I'd meet an adult that I feel comfortable with.” 

Will's gaze shifted to the tennis ball. He reached out and took it, tossing it lightly in his fingers a moment before throwing his arm back carefully and sending the ball into the trees again, even further as the dogs didn't even stop as they slipped into the underbrush.

“Do you find it difficult to talk to others?” 

“Not really, I mean, I know what to say to make people happy. I can play the part.” 

“Tell them what they want to hear.” Will clarified. 

“People prod less when you don’t step outside of the lines.”

“Were you doing that with me?” 

"For the first time, I was honest. I just…said what came into my head. I mean, I probably don't think as you think, but I felt like I could open my mouth for once and not have that clenching feeling in my chest trying to keep my brain in check. My body is holding me together at the seams as my real thoughts dripped off my face even though the words didn’t match.” 

The disdain in her voice was massive, her eyes darkening as her hand motioned with the kind of sass expected of a high society women that were appalled at being offered something that was common. Realizing she had gotten so flared, the teen seemed to curl back up on her again the emotion simmering down into nothing more than a dead look out into the woods, the dogs returning as one ran away with the ball, and the other made the chase. This was happing often, Will noticed, the sudden and drastic shifts of emotion, from feeling nothing to feeling everything. Not even he had that kind of extreme variation, at least, not over something as basic as regular contact with people. Will wandered off slowly, whistling gently to the dogs that seemed to hear him and finally stopped their running to trot back over and return the ball. Grabbing it, he tossed it between his hands for a moment before turning to Annabelle. 

“It’s okay to feel that way, Annabelle.” 

The words seemed to take her off guard, eyes widening slightly before she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Her hands slipped to her hips, resting there for a second as she turned her eyes back onto the overgrowth that hovered just beyond the property line. Will offered up the ball, waiting until the teen took it gently and once more lobbed it out into the greenery. 

“Mr. Graham?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Thanks…”

“You’re welcome.”

\----

“I am shocked, Will…I didn’t take you for the sort of recommending me. You seemed to have agreed so fully with Dr. Bloom that I wouldn’t be a good match for young Ms. Davis.” Hannibal commented, sitting there at his desk as he lazily worked on another sketch of sorts. 

Will, as much as he disliked himself for doing it, realized that there was no way that Annabelle would receive any proper care if she went to the average psychologist. Sure, Alana was talented and understanding, but not even she could turn off her mind from viewing Annabelle as an underage child. They had spent hours out there with the dogs, talking about anything that just slipped from her lips. There was so much going on in the girls head; he couldn’t even begin to know where he could help.

"I must admit when I'm wrong, I am wrong," Will said, sitting gently on the edge of the desk and making sure he didn't get in the way of Dr. Lecter's work. "However, after talking with Annabelle even, I have to admit that…there is a lot of unpacking that needs to be done. I might have overstepped thinking we were the same. Annabelle doesn't have empathy issues like me…but she said that her feelings show on her face and it's like her bodies trying to hold in everything her brain wants to do. Something in there isn't lining up right."

“More than likely, years and years of distance and having never unpacked feelings from the first parent she lost piled so high that her body is straining to contain it all. Either she cleans out the feelings, or she’ll eventually burst at the seams. She has broken down in the past.” 

“But that would have solved the problem the first time if that was the case.”

"Not always," Hannibal said, pausing in his work and looking up at Will, who turned to look over his shoulder. "The issues that cause the outburst are on top of the pile, such as her mother's death or, on the simpler end, the expectations she has to maintain in the public eye. Eventually, she snaps, and the top part spills, but there are parts of her mind that are stuck, jammed so hard down that it will take prying to have them pour out too. In the end, it's never a fully cleaned slate, and each time less and less space is there to be filled."

“What happens when there is no space left?” Will said, moving to stand as he looked at Hannibal with a bit of concern. 

The man merely twiddled his pencil, the other hand rubbing over the scalpel before his eyes glanced down and he started to gently carve a bit more of a point out of the dulling lead. “She could, on the extreme end of things, follow in the footsteps of her mother. Unable to actually remove the feelings they’ll push her mind and body to the edge. People are very unpredictable in such states after all. Annabelle could also shut down, go numb or even into a coma. I could not say anything with certainty.” 

Sighing, Will wandered off slowly, rubbing the back of his neck as he found that there was little if nothing that he could do.

“Is that why you recommended her to me? You feared that her instability would drive her down a path that would make her an enemy?” 

“Annabelle is complicated…I thought I saw myself, but now I don't know. One minute she's sweet, and she's trying to be her best, and the next her face contorts with darkness and rage. As fast as it arrives it leaves…I’m worried about the day when it decides to stick around.” Will admitted.

Hannibal seemed to pause, setting his pencil and scalpel aside neatly before standing up. He pushed in his chair and adjusted his vest neatly, catching the other man's attention as he wandered over. His face was dull as always, collected and refined as he motioned to the leather chairs. The pair sat, each in their designated spot. The doctor crossed his leg slowly, eyes glancing off to the side in thought for a moment before looking up at Will and observing the man's expression. 

“You’ve bonded with her.” 

Will’s eyebrows twitched, forming a sort of questioning look as his hands clenched at the air slowly. 

“You’re using Annabelle to fill a void in yourself, a void that never bothered you before until what happened with Abigail Hobbs.” 

“You think I’m using Annabelle to cope with what happened on the Hobbs case?” 

“I believe the Hobbs case awakened your parental urges. Annabelle just happened to be the person whom you’ve imprinted them upon.”

Will felt himself squirm, uncertain if he was willing to accept that idea or if it was even a healthy idea in the first place. Using a girl whose parents were dead as a pseudo-adopted daughter to help with his issues was not what he had intended. Will just wanted to help, or so the man thought. Had he really just been so selfishly driven? Were his kind words only spoken to maintain calm just like any parent would do for their child?

“You seem bothered by the idea.” 

“It’s not exactly a healthy way of dealing with what happened.” 

"Why not?" Hannibal asked, Will, looking up at him fully again. "Becoming a parent causes the mind to go through changes. Those changes could help you come to terms with Abigail Hobbs and also form healthier methods on how to cope with your work with Jack."

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you were suggesting that I pursue this, Dr. Lecture.”   
"I am. Annabelle Davis requires stability, and not the kind that can be bought with money. Even if arrangements are made and I take her on as an official patient, I won't be able to fill the void her parents left behind. We'll talk, and I'll help her learn how to cope, but in the end, that will only prevent her from exploding. It takes someone who's willing to step up as a parent that will prevent her from collapsing into herself.” 

“I don’t know the first thing about kids," Will argued, sitting up straighter. 

"Just like any first-time father, your child is new, and you have no idea how to handle them…but you will, with time."

\----

"You went to see Annabelle Davis," Jack said firmly, the look on his face clear as day as Will stood over the mushroom covered bodies of the latest case currently sitting on examine tables.

To say that this case was unsettling was not out of line, but it indeed wasn't what any of them had seen before. Shallow graves with thriving colonies of fungus living upon the bodies just below had been discovered in a local forest by some kids. What was worse was that one of the bodies awoke, leaving them trying to understand who would do such a thing. That's what Will was supposed to be doing, but Crawford seemed to have other plans in mind. 

“You went to Annabelle Davis behind my back and without my permission.” 

“I didn’t go as an agent, Jack.” Will started, his arms crossing over his chest slowly while one hand clung to a half-full cup of coffee. "Alana and I both saw how she looked when she left. It was a courtesy call for the girl’s well being, and we even contacted her aunt before going. It was a simple and supervised visit.” 

“Do you know what going to her after my conversation with them makes me look like?” 

"I don't know Jack; I was a bit more concerned that you were mentally destabilizing the child of a serial killer!" Will snapped; his own gaze firm. "The poor girl just had a mental breakdown, and you thought it was a good idea to hold her for another two additional hours because she might have a connection to the Chesapeake Ripper."

"Watch your tone, Will," Jack responded, the sound of it alone making the whole room tense up as work was paused. "You are still a consultant on her case, Will. You of all people should be aware that you aren't in a position to be offering a shoulder to cry on. Killer caught or not, Annabelle Davis is now another connection to an open case, and you need to watch what you do around her. Am I clear? If you see Annabelle Davis again without my permission, there will be hell to pay." 

With as quickly as he walked in, Crawford left, and Will could only just stand there, slowly leaning back on the exam table before his gaze landed on the other three agents around him. 

Jimmy smiled weakly before instantly pushing his face into some notes, Brian instead looking to Beverly who only shook her head slowly and wandered over to Will. “You know, that’s the first time I’ve ever seen anyone push back at Jack when he’s mad. I would have expected him to have tossed you out of the door like a drunk at a bar.”

“I suppose I wasn’t in the mood to put my tail between my legs today.” 

“Something bothering you?” 

Will looked off to the side before shaking his head a bit. "Not something, I just can't help but agree with Alana on this. No doubt when she finds out what Jack said to me, she'll come rearing her head with a vengeance."

"The only woman beside Jack Crawford's wife to make him back off." Beverly paused for a moment, watching Brian and Jimmy working on the bodies for a moment as her voice got softer. "So, how is the kid?" 

“Surprisingly stable for a serial killer’s survivor, or at least she knows how to put a face on. She’s fooling her aunt and most other’s but in reality…” 

“She’s slipping.” 

Will looked at the coffee in his hand before setting it to the side and reaching up to remove his glasses. Rubbing his face a moment, he took in a breath through his nose before turning to look at Beverly. His eyes were tired, hallow and broken as they had often been watching since he picked up this work. Jack was turning more than just a blind eye to Annabelle's needs…but to Will's as well.

“If Jack’s not careful, we’re probably one wrong push away from profiling her,” Will muttered

Beverly found herself wincing at the thought, turning back to the bodies as the men began to finish up their observation. “Look, you probably don’t want to hear this, but you should be careful around that kid. Jack reopened files into the old case on her father, seems a lot of stuff wasn't brought to light about the man's death because of lazy police work. I passed his office this morning, and he was in a rage on the phone with someone. I think you were just getting the last dregs of it…” 

“He reopened her father’s case?” Will questioned, his tone confused. 

"No, but after looking at all the evidence that was in the file, he did tack on her father as another victim this morning. Annabelle is the last person to potentially see her father alive and even further potentially saw the Ripper. A living breathing witness, Will…”

“She was seven.” Will softly retorted back to Beverly. “The likely hood that they could get a description of the Ripper is so small that it wouldn’t be worth the money to get through her lawyer.”

“Jack might not be looking for a description of the killer…He might be trying to find out why the Chesapeake Ripper would step out of his habits to kill a man whose only crime was potentially being alive.”

Standing there, Will slowly pulled on his glasses again before looking to Beverly and gently motioning to the table before them. There was no time to think about these things; there was work to be done. However, a dark feeling surfaced in the back of his mind…He had to warn Annabelle somehow before Jack got his way.

\----

“How are you feeling, Ms. Davis?” 

“I’m okay.” Annabelle flatly replied as she sat there in the leather chair before Dr. Lecture.  
The girl was sitting upright, her hands folded gently in her lap, and her legs tucked to the side. It was almost as if she had been drilled for high society instead of it just being a habit of good manners. Hannibal's stare locked with the girl, the pair said nothing for a long while before he looked down to the notebook in his lap, the pen in his grip gently writing while he continued.

“Are you not fond of therapy?” 

“It brings up bad memories.” 

“It’s understandable to tie negative feelings to things that followed traumatic events. It makes it easier to cope when there is a physical thing to avoid as opposed to the thoughts or feelings in one’s head. However, the circumstances that have brought you here are not what they have been in the past. Is that not enough of a difference?”

“Please don’t take this personally, Dr. Lecter, but I’ve been through enough evaluations of my mind to know that there isn’t much of a difference between any psychologist when it comes to kids and teens.” Annabelle started. "The process is the same. They try and make me feel comfortable, and when I prove to be too difficult to crack, they want to prescribe me medication.”

“Have all of your therapists tried to get you on prescription drugs?” 

“Only the first few, I learned quickly that I had to be careful about how I described my feelings.”

“Is that why you are keeping yourself distant? You think I’ll also follow the pattern and recommend drugs to deal with the issues you face?” 

“Potentially…” 

For the first time in his career, Hannibal felt that he couldn't get a read on his patient. He had been doing this for decades, certainly longer than the girl had been alive. However, the complicated labyrinth that she had formed around herself was something Hannibal hadn't anticipated. Will had spoken to her so quickly, and yet here he was struggling to get things started. 

It was about time he found a challenge. 

“Then how about we make a deal, Ms. Davis?” 

The girl only gave him a questioning look; her posture still defiant. “I’m listening.” 

“For as long as you are my patient, the moment you enter this room you are no longer a child. In this room, I address you as an adult — no beating around the bush to protect your young mind. I won’t waste your time with such frivolous chatter. Along with that, drugs would be completely off the table. Never will I recommend them unless I firmly believed they were needed, and even then I would only directly offer them to you. That would leave it up to you to bring it up to your aunt to pursue that line of treatment.”

“Deals have two sides, Dr. Lecter. What am I to give in return?”

“Simple, give your recovery a chance.”

Annabelle went silent, looking off to the side in thought. It was apparent that this was never something that she had dealt with before when it came to speaking with a doctor. The hesitance on her face told Hannibal that her past experiences with the mental health community had been filled with far more than hollow promises to get better.

"I suppose I am open to the idea, but I want a fail-safe." The teen added slowly. "I'd like to have that statement of yours written on paper, a contract if you will. We'll have my aunt and lawyer look at it before all four of us sign. Therefore, it would make your promise legally binding. If you break that promise, I am in my rights to sue at my discretion.”

“Of course, I can have the documents typed up for you by the end of the night, and we can have your aunt and lawyer sign it before our next session. I'll let you keep the physical copy, and I'll have another one made up to be kept in your file."

“You’re granting me quite a lot of power Dr. Lecter. You must be very confident in your ability to help me.” 

Hannibal gave a small smile then, setting the notebook in his lap aside before he shifted to sit on the edge of his seat. Annabelle mimicked the motion as if to keep them on equal ground at all times. It didn't go unnoticed, and the doctor couldn't stop himself from smiling just a little more than usual at the child. 

"I suppose I'm very interested in seeing the true you, Ms. Davis. The side that you haven't even shown your own family and blood…yet have given willingly to a man you barely know."

Her eyes flashed, almost as if there was a sudden flare of feeling in her. However, her face did not shift practically set in stone with a light and sweet expressions. "Whatever do you mean, doctor?"

"Will Graham was the one who recommended me to your aunt. I had to admit when he spoke of you; I also found myself becoming interested. Especially since when I first looked at you I felt sure of one thing."

“And that is?” 

“You’re brilliant, Ms. Davis…I would like to see how far that brilliance can go.”


End file.
